Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) (22 page)

22

“‘This is
not a map to my keep
,’”
Zar read aloud, “‘but a map to the map to my keep. So that whoever has a map may find the map, and whoever finds the map may find the keep. While there are ten other maps to the map, there is only one map to the keep. I am dead and can no longer speak, so let my maps guide your feet.
Bruudor—
pirate, riddler, adventurer, thief.’ And poet, apparently.” Zar burst into chuckles.

Zar called Asha out from under the shade. “We have a map to the map,” he said as Asha kneeled, allowing him to mount. “What do you say we find the map to the keep?”

Asha trotted off energetically in approval, and Zar studied the map intently as Asha continued west away from the coast. After his eyes had scoured the unrolled paper for a time, he finally looked up. “The coast isn’t drawn on the map. It doesn’t show the sea at all. We’ll likely have to travel much farther in before we’ll come across some of these landmarks. But this is what we’re looking for, these caverns.” Zar’s finger traced over the map. “They lay here in Sunken Valley, outside of Tinberuu, a town it looks like.

“We will keep on west, and if we pass another city we will ask if they know of Tinberuu. But if we’re too far east and the town is small, it’s likely the folk in these parts may not have heard of it, so we’ll have to get farther west. Aye, Asha, I suppose I could just as well ask about Sunken Valley—but something tells me I shouldn’t. It’s too close to our prize. Aye, I
am
overly cautious but it’s kept us alive and it’s kept us well. Admit it, Asha, we haven’t wanted for anything for a long while. We have a cache of gold and rare jewels in Krii. We are healthy, we’ve made changes—fine,
I’ve
made changes. You’ve ever been consistent since I’ve known you, but I’ve made significant changes to my person. Aye, and you know it.

“You know something, Asha? I’ve asked myself why. Why I changed from what I was before, how I could’ve been anything other than what I am now, how the person I once was could ever be the person I am now? Ha, am I confusing you? Do I sound like Bruudor the riddler? Perhaps he’s rubbed off on me from the message I read on the map, but you know what I speak of. How could one vessel contain parts so benign and parts so debased? And how, then, can I align myself? No good man would have ever done some of the evil things that I have; nor would any evil man do some of the good that I have. It leaves me in an odd position— somewhere stuck in between.

“Do you have anything to say about this? I feel that I don’t truly know who I am, or that I do know, but don’t wish to be so. I’ve partaken in too many things, tasted too much. So now I must fight myself over the things I desire, feel shame over the things that I’ve done, and hope that my current and future efforts to do right will one day afford me some peace. Perhaps that’s all I can do. For what are we but creatures in conflict, warring against our primitive selves for a person more refined?

“Am I right, Asha? Is this a thing common to others?

Do I judge myself too harshly, or is my soul as dark as I fear? I encounter a man like Prynner, and I say to myself ‘there is a good man.’ I would wager all the gold in our cache that he has done no wicked thing. Wouldn’t you agree, Asha, having met him? I am far removed from his like, and I know it. Aye, I do good now, but there was a time… What I do now doesn’t change what I did then, you understand?”

Asha was focused on getting them both up a rather steep hill and had been silent for much of the time. But Zar was quite expecting answers, and waited in silence until she had brought them over the incline. “Well?” he questioned, and not long after he heard something from her, a few low grunts which Zar took for grumbling.

“What? Why do you think? Because I’m troubled by it, that’s why I tell you. I think on this often—good, evil, and my place in it. How do we judge it? Is it our right to judge it? I ever think on these things. Can a man claim to be good when he’s danced in the darkness? Can he redeem himself from his part in it, or rid himself of the burden of it? I suppose I will see in time. Now let us speak of something else, that strange feeling of remembering the past is coming.

“There, Asha, another rider coming our way. Let us ask him about Tinberuu.”

A man on horseback had come down from the mount that Zar and Asha traveled towards, and the evening sun hovered over the stranger’s head, leaving his face blurry in the glare. It wasn’t until he came much closer that Zar could make out what he looked like.

It was an older face, bearded, and dark of skin. A bow was fastened beside his saddle and a small hilt protruded up from his waist—whether short sword or dagger, Zar couldn’t yet tell.

“Well met, sir,” called Zar, holding his hand up in greeting. “How is the way ahead?”

“Well met,” the man replied, slowing his mount to stand beside Asha. “Well, you’re almost out of the hills,” he continued, looking back to the mountains he came down from.

“Good,” replied Zar with relief. “Me and Asha have been waiting for level ground—haven’t seen much since we left the coast. We didn’t want to spend the time going around the mountains.”

“The coast?” the fellow questioned, raising his brows.

“You came from the sea?”

“Aye, across it.”

“You’re a Kriian?” The man’s eyes examined Zar up and down, scanning him from the top of his locks down to his boots then doing the same to Asha.

“Aye, this is my very first visit to Serradiia,” Zar stated, quite liking the sound of it. “I search for Tinberuu. Do you know it?”

“Aye, I know it. ‘Tis a town not far from the capital—far west from here.”

“How would I get there?”

“Keep heading west,” the man replied. “After another day you’ll be out of the hills, and as soon as you are head north until you find a wide, rushing river. You’ll know it when you see it. Follow the river west and it’ll take you right to the town. That’s the fastest way. There’s a road west of the mountains, but it’s the long way around.”

“Thank you, good sir. I shall be on my way. Good travels.”

“Aye, good travels.”

Zar followed the man’s instruction, continued west, and made camp for the night in the hills. In the morning he set out again, and by the time noon passed he had come out of the mountains. They now walked over a grassy steppe with the only trees in sight standing so far away they looked like specks at the end of a broad and massive plain.

With the sun still high in the sky, Zar hopped off Asha’s back, found a twig, and stuck it in the ground. Finding the tip of the twig’s shadow, he marked that point by digging into the earth with his finger.

“And now we wait,” he said to Asha, who had already taken a seat on the ground. Zar sat beside her a short while before hopping up to mark the new point that the tip of the twig’s shadow had moved to. He traced the earth, connecting the two points with a line to mark the sun’s travel from east to west, then etched another line which ran perpendicular to the first, and marked the north tip of it with an arrow. They traveled that direction, watching the woods looming in the distance grow larger and closer as the hours passed.

They found the river just as the stranger said, the water very much alive, moving fast and forceful over the stones, its surface white.

“It’s a lively one, is it not? Have a drink.”

Zar refilled his water skin and scooped up a fresh gulp of cold, river water to his mouth. “Ah, refreshing. I know you don’t need it nearly as often as I do, but you might as well… since it’s here.”

Asha walked slowly to the bank and lowered her neck to the water unhurriedly.

“Well? It’s good, is it not? Take your time. We’ll be resting here for a bit. I’m going to eat something.”

Zar snatched a handful of dried meat from Asha’s saddlebag and sat down by the bank to eat. Asha roamed around, snacking on vegetation while Zar lay back and rested his head on the ground. He closed his eyes, shutting out the sky’s blue light, then pulled them back open as he felt sleepiness creep in. His eyelids grew heavier each time he pulled them back open, and, finally, they remained closed.

Fur brushed Zar’s face—and moisture, and when he opened his eyes he was face to face with Asha.

“Did I doze off? How long was I out? Good of you to wake me. We must be on our way.”

Zar gazed up at the evening sun and pointed. “The old man said west along the river. Let’s be off.” Zar mounted. “I wonder how long until Tinberuu. The man didn’t say. We’ll travel through the night if we need to. I’m quite rested from my sleep.”

Zar rode Asha along the river until the sun disappeared, and the two traveled through the night with no light save the moon and stars, their guide still running rapidly beside them.

“We don’t need a torch,” Zar told Asha. “Just keep beside the river. We can’t get lost unless we part from it.”

After an hour more Asha’s trot had slowed to an amble, and Zar sat still, looking forward into the darkness, his head resting deep in the hood of his cloak.

“How much longer do you think we have?” asked Zar after traveling three hours more. “Are you tired? I am. Let’s rest here until morning.”

Zar dismounted, led Asha away from the bank, and laid a blanket down. “Tinberuu can’t be too far off. I hope no more than a day.”

Zar slept and awoke to the brightness of morning. Asha was standing with her snout in the air, looking to the west and sniffing.

“What is it, Asha?” Zar stood and looked to the west to see a town standing in the distance. He laughed. “As close as we were last night I’m afraid we might have passed it in the darkness.”

The town was small, and the villagers looked at Zar with a curious gleam in their eyes. He stopped in the tavern for a proper meal, as he hadn’t had one in days, and spoke to the serving girl about the fastest route to Sunken Valley. The directions seemed simple enough, and the girl hadn’t looked surprised or suspicious that he’d asked about it.

Zar finished his food and set right back out. The valley was hardly an hour out of town. Two rows of high mountains running parallel in close proximity made the earth between appear to dip deep and low. Zar buried his face in the map, his eyes shooting off the paper intermittently and scanning the area.

“If we are
here
…
these
are the caverns. Here is Tinberuu, so that’s the way we came from. They should be… Ah, there! Do you see, Asha? Those hills on the left—they certainly look like caves down there. Let’s have a look.”

Zar rode Asha toward the dark openings. The cave’s mouth was large enough for both him and Asha to enter without crouching. Zar took a while to fashion a torch, then sparked it aflame with his dagger and a flint. A single tunnel ran back into the earth, and Zar explored the dark with his torch held up in one hand and his dagger gripped in the other.

He followed the corridor back, and Asha stayed near the front as the way became narrower. Zar was surprised to hear voices coming from the depths of the cave, along with rushed footsteps. He squeezed through a passage where the cave’s tunnel appeared to come to an end, but continued through a tight crack between the walls. The light of another fire glimmered off the walls of the large den, revealing two others far across the room. The men seemed to be embracing each other. They grunted and shuffled, and on the floor by their feet Zar could see some sort of rolled up parchment. The men, finally noticing Zar’s presence, looked down at the item urgently and released their grip on each other.

“You’re here for the map, too, eh?” said one between heavy breaths. His right arm clutched a dagger which he pointed at Zar. “The map is mine! You touch it and I’ll cut your throat open!”

Zar stayed silent as the other man erupted, waving a short, curved blade around in the air. “I found it first, and you’ll both leave it right there if you want to live!”

“Good sirs,” said Zar, housing his dagger back in the sheath on his belt. “I’m in no great hurry to die. If you would kill me for whatever’s on that rolled up parchment then, truly, keep it, it’s yours.”

Zar turned his back on the men and immediately their quarrel resumed. He could hear their rustling and grunting as he squeezed himself back into the crack and waited. A short time later, when both men had cried out a few times and their breathing was short and heavy, Zar slipped out from the cleft and peered in their direction to find that their fight had taken them to the far end of the den where a new hall began. The men were entangled on the floor, both cut in more than a few places. They yelled fiercely and cursed the other, and with their noise Zar snuck over, having left his torch behind in the crevice, felt along the ground with his hands, and picked up the parchment. He left without being noticed. He met Asha back in the beginning of the cave with a smile on his face and the map in his hand, and she looked at him seeming almost a bit surprised, as if wondering how he had gone and retrieved the map so quickly.

“Two birds disputed about a kernel,” said Zar, shoving the map into the camel’s saddlebag, “when a third swooped down and carried it off.”

Both anxious and satisfied, Zar rode through the new land, referring to the map clenched tightly in his left hand. If the map was indeed everything it was said to be, they would never need another piece of gold in their lives. Asha’s very stride reflected the notion, and as her legs swung in assurance, Zar’s body swayed and rocked in rhythm.

The map took them far from Sunken Valley and Tinberuu, to the northwest over mountains and on to great steppes. They passed several cordial travelers whom Zar spoke to, delighted by their western Serradiian accents which sounded much different from what he was accustomed to. Unlike his eastern tone which was curt and crisp, the Serradiians held their sounds longer, and it almost sounded musical. It was a country sound, Zar thought, and while even a bit provincial it made the men seem genuine and goodhearted, and the women dainty and curious. It was an intonation that, even after days of travel, still brought a smile to his face.